


Six Years

by restingkovicface



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Immortal Haus Crew, M/M, enjoy, hahahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:01:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restingkovicface/pseuds/restingkovicface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What are you supposed to do when the love of your life dies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Years

Five weeks.  
  
Adam has been gone for five weeks.

Joel is keeping count, marking every day on his calendar with a fat X before going to bed. Nothing feels the same anymore. He binge eats. He doesn’t go out to watch new flicks when there are off days. Most of the time he sits on the couch, listening to police radio, keeping the books, tracking money. Anything else seems too empty.

But he’s managing. He wakes up every morning, shaves his stubble, gets a shower, goes to work. Nights are the worst. He’s started drinking his product, breaking his own rules, and much to Matt’s disapproval. He say’s that Joel’s overreacting, that Adam’s just another fling. He’s probably right, but Joel resents his tone, so he drinks.  
  
James and Bruce are nice enough, even though they don’t really understand what he’s going through. Matt and Bruce were passing through James’ small town the night James was killed, so they were able to save him immediately. If Adam died in battle, then Joel wouldn’t be able to see him for weeks. By that time, it would already be too late to do anything about it. But still, they try. James is distant, but he’s always able to provide an awkward shoulder pat. Bruce always gives hugs, and will sometimes drink with him, if Joel’s up to it.  
  
Sometimes he’s angry. He throws things and breaks expensive gifts. He yells at Adam for leaving, and he cries until he throws up. He’s mad at Adam for leaving, he’s mad at Matt for not fixing Adam sooner, and he’s mad at himself for getting attached to something – someone – so temporary. He sleeps on the couch. The bed has too much empty space.  
  
Bruce comes in every Sunday, and they watch Time for Beany on the TV. There isn’t any colour, and the signal is fuzzy. Joel laughs at the idea, and Bruce can tell that’s exactly how Joel’s mind feels. They eat snacks, and sometimes James comes with him. He sits on the far end of the couch. Bruce reaches over and loosely holds James’ fingers. Joel doesn’t like it when there are too many people in his house. It makes him feel lonely.  
  
Matt has to come over occasionally for check ups. He makes Joel eat a proper breakfast. He takes the laundry across the street for cleaning. He makes sure Joel’s refrigerator has real food inside of it. He makes Joel drink milk, take aspirin, wake up from naps he should have never taken. Joel tells him that he doesn’t have to do any of that. Matt says he knows, but if he doesn’t, then no one will. He jokingly says he can’t lose the ring leader of the only source of income the crew has. Joel doesn’t laugh.  
  
He knows he’s a burden. Everyone goes quiet when he walks into work. They don’t trust him to sample product. He isn’t invited to anymore parties. All he is anymore is a money counter and a figurehead. He’s lost all of his importance, and he doesn’t care.

* * *

Ten weeks.

Adam has been gone for ten weeks. Joel receives his first letter, and his heart flips in his chest. It’s Adam’s handwriting, he’s sure. No one else has such an untidy scrawl. He pours a glass of whiskey and sits on his couch. He opens the letter.  
  
The ink is slightly smudged, like Adam let his hand drag over the words as he wrote them. Joel makes a mental note to give him hell about being a lefty (Devil spawn, as his mother coined them) as he begins to read the letter.   
  
It’s lighthearted. Adam writes out a few jokes, and Joel laughs a bit. But it’s short. Too short, he can already tell. Three pages doesn’t make up for ten weeks away. Halfway through, Joel pours himself another drink. Adam had begun writing about the war.  
  
Germans are hell. All the refugees are sick. There’s more flies in the hospitals than there are live patients. He hates hospitals. Everything’s darker there. They go to battle in a fortnight. He’s scared, but he can’t deny that he’s a little excited. What Hitler is doing is disgusting, revolting. He wants to see him lose.  
  
Adam says he hopes Joel’s doing well. He says that he loves him, that he thinks about him every night. He misses their bed, and the way the air conditioning in the house was always broken. He wishes he could experience one more LA heatwave before going into battle – it’s so damn cold in Europe. But it’s nice. Joel would like France. He claims there’s a flower shop on every corner, and they all sell his favourite peonies.   
  
The letter ends in a way that seems too rushed. As if Adam was being ordered to hurry up his feelings, to stop what he was doing and come. The last words are See you soon. Adam. Joel finishes his whiskey.  
  
He folds the letter back up, shoves it in the envelope it came in, and places it in an empty shoe box under the bed, hands shaking. He’s feeling light headed, and he has to go to work soon. Maybe Matt won’t be too angry if he doesn’t show up. Who could blame him?

* * *

Thirteen weeks.  
  
Adam has been gone for thirteen weeks. There’s a knock on their door. It’s early; the birds aren’t even chirping. The remnants of last nights drinking escapades linger in his head. He answers the door with whiskey breath and a stained shirt.  
  
Three broad-shouldered men in uniform are standing on his porch. Joel can see some neighbours standing in their yards, watching with apathetic curiosity. He quickly steps aside to let the men enter. Joel locks the door behind him, and draws the curtains closed.  
  
He offers the men something to drink, and they politely decline. Joel fixes himself one anyway. It’s 6:30 in the morning; he can feel their judgement, but he doesn’t care. He needs to feel numb for this. The questions start.  
  
You are Mr. Joel Rubin?  
  
Yes.  
  
You know a soldier by the name of Adam Kovic?  
  
Yes, I know him.  
  
Do you know of any surviving members of Private Kovic’s family?  
  
No, he doesn’t have any family.  
  
You are the closest thing he has to family?  
  
Yes.  
  
They continue. What do you know about Private Kovic? When is his date of birth? How are the two of you associated? Do you live together? What’s your dynamic? Joel feels like he’s going to be sick. His hands shake. They’re going to say it. They’re going to say that Adam is dead, and they’re sending his body back home to be buried.  
  
Joel prepares himself, biting his lip and trying hard not to let any tears spill in front of them. But they don’t say it. They tell him that Adam is not dead, but he’s requesting to come home. He was hurt in battle. He won’t make it.  
  
They’re respecting his wishes by allowing him to come back home. Joel immediately agrees. They tell him that Adam will be here within the week. Joel thanks them, shakes each of their hands, and cries when he shuts the door upon their exit. Adam is coming home. Hopefully Matt will agree to fix him when he passes.  
  
Joel has never dealt with a death before. He wonders if it hurts as much as every photo facing downward on his dresser.

* * *

Twenty minutes.  
  
Adam has been home for twenty minutes. Some nurses help bring him in. They lay him in the bedroom, on the bed. They plug up IVs and tell Joel how to change his bandages. They leave a bottle of morphine and a syringe. They tell him it should help Adam pass peacefully. Joel thanks them, and they show themselves out.  
  
Joel sits on his knees in the floor beside Adam. There are bandages wrapped tightly around his midriff. He’s dotted with cuts and bruises. His arms look more toned, and a tooth is missing. They made him shave his beard. Joel doesn’t like it. He looks too young. Liquid chocolate eyes are staring back at him lovingly.  
  
He cries. He presses his forehead against Adam’s hand and sobs disgustingly. His whole body shakes and he gets the hiccups. Adam makes shushing noises, and rubs his heavy hands through Joel’s overgrown hair. Adam says that Joel isn’t allowed to cry over him. That he is  just one dot in Joel’s entire timeline. He isn’t worth it.  
  
Joel doesn’t listen. He is worth it. He’s worth the entire world.

* * *

Two weeks.  
  
Adam has been home for two weeks. He’s getting worse. His bandages need changed more often. He’s asking for morphine every hour. He sleeps too often. Joel moved his blankets from the couch to their bedroom. Adam takes up too much of the bed, so Joel settles with the floor.  
  
He moves the TV from the living room to the bedroom so Adam can watch it when he wants. He rubs Adam’s feet, and covers him with his favourite blankets. He hums soft lullabies when Adam tries to sleep. He doesn’t go to work.  
  
When Adam is awake, Joel reads to him. Adam smiles softly, and Joel presses small kisses into the palm of Adam’s hand. He mutters that he loves Joel. Joel says he loves him too. They’re silent again.

* * *

Four weeks.  
  
Adam has been home for four weeks. He bugged Joel to sleep on the couch whenever he saw how stiffly Joel had been moving lately. After a week of nagging, Joel finally gives in. And Adam is right. Hardwood floors are not good for posture.  
  
He moves back to the couch. He doesn’t have the TV to keep him company, so sleepless nights are spent reading old newspapers from the dim light of a lamp. He does the crosswords. He clips the comic strips for Adam. He likes to put them in scrapbooks. Joel is sure he’ll like this weeks specifically. They’re funny.  
  
Joel can barely sleep. Adam tells him he needs to stop worrying. Take a nap. He’ll be here when he wakes up. He holds his sides and laughs, saying he doesn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Joel concedes. He changes Adam’s bandages and kisses his forehead before lying down on the couch.

* * *

Twelve hours.  
  
Joel has been asleep for twelve hours. He wakes up with a start. It’s two in the morning, and he panics. He can hear the static from the TV in the bedroom. Adam doesn’t leave the static on. It gives him headaches.  
  
_No._  
  
He flings the covers off of him.  
  
_No._  
  
He knocks over a picture in the hallway on the way to the bedroom.  
  
_No._  
  
He slams the door open. Adam doesn’t flinch.  
  
“Adam?” he yells. His voice cracks. There’s no reply.  
  
The light from the TV shows a heavy, dark spot on the light blue cover that Adam is wearing. His face is still.  
  
“Adam!” Joel yells again. He moves quickly, dropping to his knees and putting a hand on Adam’s cheek. He’s cold.  
  
“Oh my god, no,” Joel says. He begins ripping the IV’s from Adam’s arms. He pulls Adam off of the bed by his hips. “No, please, this can’t be happening, Adam, please wake up, this isn’t funny, Adam, please.” He’s begging with no one.  
  
He drags Adam across the bedroom floor, down the hall, followed by a crimson trail. Joel’s brain is completely numb. Halfway through the living room, he falls backwards. He lands on his butt, and Adam’s head bounces off of Joel’s chest.  
  
Joel cries into Adam’s cold shoulder. He wraps his arms around Adam’s chest and rocks back and forth. Adam’s chest is cold. Joel can’t feel the familiar heartbeat. A switch flips.  
  
“Peake!” Joel screams. His blood runs cold. “Peake!”  
  
He stands back up. He pulls Adam through the front door and into the driveway. He opens the backseat door of his car and heaves Adam onto the leather seat. He climbs into the driver’s seat and rockets onto the road.  
  
_“Peake you son of a bitch!”_  he screams at the steering wheel. “Why wouldn’t you help him?”

* * *

Ten minutes.  
  
Matt lives ten minutes from Joel, downtown. He rents an apartment in a shady district. Everyone knows what he’s capable of. They fear him. Joel doesn’t.  
  
Joel climbs the fire escape up to Matt’s apartment. He yells and bangs on the windows, but there are no answers. He begins kicking. One shattered window and several fresh cuts later, Joel is in Matt’s apartment.  
  
“Peake, I know you’re in here!” he yells, banging on every door he sees. He doesn’t give a shit about neighbours. He doesn’t give a shit about anything.  
  
Matt emerges from the last door Joel wails on. He’s disheveled and looks like he hasn’t slept in centuries. He doesn’t ask any questions. Joel tells him he’s downstairs.  
  
Matt looks Adam over in the alleyway. Joel paces behind him, breathing heavy. Trying his best not to punch the apartment complex is the only job he has. He doesn’t know anything about dead bodies. He’s completely useless.  
  
“Well?” Joel demands. “Can you do it? Am I too late?” he whispers he last part.  
  
Matt looks up from Adam and turns to Joel. Thousands of years of knowledge and experience and suffering are all overlapped by the pained look of empathy that clouds Matt’s eyes. Joel’s heart sinks, and a fresh wave of tears roll forth.  
  
“Can you at least try?” he barely whispers. He hears Matt sigh.  
  
“I can try. I don’t think it will do any good,” Matt says.  
  
_I was too late_ , Joel says to himself as he climbs in the passenger seat of his own car. Matt needs to drive them to their work. That’s where he keeps all of his tools.  
  
_I was too late_ , Joel says again as they blow through the city streets.  
  
_I was too late_.

* * *

Six years.  
  
Joel has lived for six years since Adam died. Matt said Adam was just a fling, but he was wrong. Joel hasn’t looked at another person that way since he met Adam. He tells anyone who will listen how his Adam helped fight the Germans.  
  
He’s better now. He finally cut his hair. He sleeps in his own bed again. He showers regularly. His job is more bearable. James has started to warm up to everyone. It’s nice having friends again.  
  
They moved out of LA after Adam died. They all felt uneasy in that city. They went down to Florida instead. Matt and Bruce manage a fishing boat now, as a front. James and Joel take care of the real business. James handles product. Bruce holds guns. Matt is the ring leader. Joel gives orders, manages finances, keeps everything organized. He likes his job. It reminds him of the prohibition. If he tries hard enough, he can almost remember the bootleg moonshine burn in his throat. It’s nice.  
  
He isn’t late for anything. He’ll even come in a bit early to eliminate the risk of being late. Matt notices him do it, but he doesn’t say anything. He allows Joel to worry and panic if they haven’t left when he said they needed to. Matt understands. Sort of.  
  
Nights are easier now. He can fall asleep almost instantly. The covers are warm and scratchy and in Florida even the winter feels like summer. He wakes up sometimes in the middle of the night drenched in a cold sweat. A splash of water to the face and a quick drink help him get back to sleep.  
  
Mornings are the best. Waking up with sticky southern heat on his skin, wiping off grimy sweat onto clean sheets. His slick thighs rub together and his hair is matted to his forehead. The sun beats in through the cracks in the blinds and throws harsh rays onto the bed.   
  
Joel feels a light hand wipe beads of moisture from his neck. He rolls over with a smile. He’s greeted by burnt umber eyes and soft pink lips.  
  
“Good morning,” Adam says gently, pressing a small kiss to Joel’s nose. “I missed you.”  
  
“I was here all night,” Joel laughs. Adam smiles and runs a thumb over Joel’s forehead, brushing away the sweat.  
  
“I know,” Adam says quietly. “You don’t move much in your sleep. It’s almost like you’re not really there at all.”  
  
Joel makes a noise of disregard and moves closer to lie his head on Adam’s chest. “I’m always here. I’ll never leave you, Adam. You’re stuck with me forever.”  
  
“I know, thank God,” Adam grins. He places a kiss on the top of Joel’s head and wraps his arms around him, despite the boiling heat. “I’ll never leave you either, Joel.”  
  
“Again?” Joel jokes, poking at Adam’s ribs. His fingers brush over the rough skin where the original wound was; it was the only scar that would never heal. Adam’s grip around Joel tightens. Joel listens as his heart accelerates, and Adam sighs. Joel can hear the smile on his lips.  
  
“I’ll never leave you again, Joel.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know it isn't very clear? but basically they're all immortal, and Peake could have helped discover whether or not Adam would be, but he never did because he felt like it would be a waste of time.


End file.
